The Lake - Richard Laymon

Warren understood her. Like now. He knew she was happy at Pacey’s Place. Among her own kind. Problem people. Misfits. Weirdos. They got together, understood each other. No questions asked.

Now there was this “midnight runner.” Who in hell was she? Whomever, whatever, she turned out to be, she was involved with Warren.

Without knowing why, but trusting her instincts, Sheena felt a squirm of apprehension.

FORTY-TWO

It was Thursday evening. Night of the get-together with Mom and Warren.

Mom wasn’t home yet.

Warren wasn’t due for a couple of hours.

In her bedroom, Deana stripped to her bra and panties.

“Hope everything works out okay,” she murmured to herself. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Two nice people. Civilized guys who know the score. They’ll get along fine.”

She peered into the dresser mirror. Inspecting herself. Practicing how she’d look. A dry run for later.

She went over to her bed. Laid out were two outfits—her final final selection. A maroon cotton pantsuit, and a blue jersey crossover blouse and short denim skirt.

Smart casual, she’d told Warren.

No way was the black dress an option. Far too formal for a muggy evening.

It’s gotta be the crossover blouse and denim skirt, she decided. The blouse would be great, if…

If what?

If Warren wanted a closer inspection?

She hugged herself.

I know he likes me.

She could tell by the way his eyes swept over her in an approving, but not suggestive, way. Maybe he’d guessed she wasn’t interested in sex at the moment. Understood it was too soon…

Her relationship with Warren would grow, gradually and at her own pace, she decided.

She swung around. Looked into her dresser mirror again, posing, admiring her body. She eased up her breasts till the tops bulged out from her bra. She posed, hand on hip, drawing in her midriff so that her waist looked really small and neat.

Her flimsy panties stretched across her hipbones. She sure was glad she’d kept up with those abdominal workouts. They’d been a bore, but they made one helluva difference to her figure.

“Not bad!” she told the mirror. “Warren’s eyes are gonna stand out on stalks when he sees me tonight…”

Thick black hair tumbled around her shoulders.

Full, firm breasts brimmed out of their cups. Her nipples almost showing…

What would Warren think if he saw me now?

She imagined his eyes, watching her, longing to touch her, take her in his arms—but then, not wanting to, not after the bad experiences she’d hinted at.

What if Warren wanted to…wanted to see more of me? Anything’s possible—especially if I kinda give him the go-ahead. Maybe I should go over myself with the LadyShave. Just in case.

She ogled her reflection in the mirror.

Then teased both breasts out of their cups, pushing them up, just a little more, till she could see the dark pink aureole of her nipples.

That’s better!

She literally flowed out of her underwear now.

Almost too much…

Tossing a seductive smile at her reflection, she slowly stroked her breasts, her waist, her hips. She pushed her panties down ever so slightly, revealing her taut flat belly—and dark curly wisps of pubic hair.

She groaned, hating the wiry growth peeking out of her panties.

She paused.

What was that?

A movement. A step, disturbing the quiet beyond the open door of her room…

Is anyone there?

Can’t be Mom…

She’s still at the restaurant.

I’m alone in the house.

Warren?

Nah. He hasn’t got a key.

And Nelson’s dead.

Isn’t he?

Then who else…?

Catching a ragged breath, her heart leapt to her throat.

She frowned. Peered into the mirror.

A familiar figure filled the doorway.

It moved toward her.

Slowly.

Mace!

His eyes dark. Intense.

Staring at her.

His mouth hung slack, open a little. She caught a glimpse of white, even teeth.

Horrified, Deana whirled around. Her arms flew up, crushing her breasts.

Mace.

How did he get in?

He stood before her.

His hands reaching out.

FORTY-THREE

“Stay away from me, you creep. You BASTARD!”

Terrified, Deana backed away.

MACE!

The bastard—what’s he doing here?

His arms dropped to his side. His shoulders hunched slightly. “Deana. Ssshh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…Didn’t mean to scare you…”

“Oh, no? What d’you take me for—a moron or something? What’re ya doing in my room? In my house, come to that?”

“Take it easy, will ya? I said I’m sorry. What more—” His eyes looked dark, wild.

“What more do I want? I’ll tell ya what more. I want you outta my room and outa my LIFE. Outta my life and Mom’s, too.”

She snatched up her robe, struggled into it, wrapped it around her body, holding it tightly closed.

“You’re a fuckin’ creep. You know that?”

Mace backed away, hands lifted, palms up.

He looked dazed. But his eyes still looked wild.

And his mouth still gaped open like he was in a trance. His brow and upper lip were shiny with sweat.

God, he looks so weird. What’s up with him?

Seems like he’s having a tough time with his words, too. He was stumbling around, trying to find the right ones.

Not much like the Mace she’d known up to now.

Where had his control gone? One thing about Mace. He was always so in control. Of himself and situations.

It was weird, the way he was now.

“Er…Look, Deana,” he said thickly. “I’m going. Right? I wasn’t here, right? No…no need to tell Leigh…I’ll tell her myself. Later…”

“You bastard. You come in here spying on me, and now you tell me to keep my mouth shut?”

“About the size of it, Deana. Stay mum—and so will I.”

Suddenly, he was getting more lucid by the minute.

The old Mace.

The one she hated so much.

Deana held her breath. Tried to calm down. Wouldn’t do to get him riled up. Way he’d looked a few moments ago, he might just turn on her…

But she had to know exactly what he meant.

“Whatdya mean—and so will you?”

“We both have our little secrets, honey. Don’t we? Like you sneaking back into the house around two-thirty a.m. You tell your mom about that, did ya? Or your visits to that house with the two redwoods in front?”

She picked up her hairbrush from the dresser, and he backed off.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going. Sorry for coming on to you like that. It’s just…”

He faltered. Looking bewildered again.

“It’s just what?” prompted Deana.

Don’t think I’m gonna be able to handle him like this. God, Mom, where are you, for chrissake?

This was a different Mace, all right.

An iffy Mace.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all,” he muttered.

His voice was low. She could scarcely hear it. Like he was talking to himself.

He turned and made for the door.

Then stopped dead.

They’d both heard the same thing. The muffled sound of an engine; a car pulling up outside.

The sound of a door slamming shut.

Mom.

Thank God.

Mace turned. Put a finger to his lips.

As he looked across at her, he was back to normal. All business. Fierce. Intense. In control.

The old Mace.

“Ssshh. I’m warning you, Deana.”

The finger sliced across his throat.

Deana held still.

She watched him go.

What if Mom found her like this, half-dressed—with Mace hurrying down the hallway? She’s gonna think something fishy’s going on.

Shit. This had to happen tonight, of all nights!

The night Warren was coming to dinner.

The night when she’d prayed everything’d go according to plan.

What the fuck was up with Mace, anyway?

He hadn’t looked as if he were about to rape her.

He’d just stared in that awful creepy sort of way.

Okay. He knew about my sneaking in at two-thirty. But how did he know I’d visited a house with two redwoods in front?

Did he know about Warren?

The thought that he did made shivers run up and down her spine.

How much does the bastard really know?

She heard voices.

Mom saying, “Why hello, Mace. Didn’t expect to see you today…”

“Courtesy call, Leigh. See how you both are, an’ all.”

“My, this is a real treat. So soon after…” Mom’s voice softened into a murmur.

Silence. More murmurs…

Kissing.

How could she?

But of course, she doesn’t know yet.

About Mace’s surprise visit to her darling daughter.

And I can’t tell you about it, Mom.

Can’t warn you about Mace.

Christ, Mom. He’s real bad news, and I can’t tell you. Because he’s blackmailing me!

Deana felt like throwing up. Mace could sneak in, spy on her, scare the shit outa her, and then cozy up to Mom like he meant it.

Christ, what a crud!

Deana was angry. And scared. She’d seen a whole different Mace back there. And it was not a pretty sight.

It sure was spooky, the way he’d gaped at her.

Not exactly like he wanted to rape her, either.

More like he’d never seen a woman half-naked before.

Which is a load of bullshit.

She knew that.

Mace must’ve had scores of women.

Guys like him take women, use ’em, and throw ’em away…

God. Mom!

Coming this way.

Deana straightened her robe, flung her hair over her shoulder, and busied herself putting the pantsuit back in the wardrobe.

“Hi there, honey!”

Mom put her head around the door.

“Hi yourself, Mom. Just deciding what to wear tonight.”

“Yeah. I bet. Take you all afternoon?”

“Something like that…”

“Good of Mace to call on us like that. Although he did know I was working all day. I’ve really spent too much time out of the restaurant lately. Had a lot of catching up to do: ordering, consulting with Carlo…all of that. Carlo’s doing a good job, too. Not like Nelson, of course, but…

“You okay, honey?”

“Why, sure, Mom. Just want to make a good impression tonight, is all. What d’ya think about my final choice?”

She held up the soft jersey top and denim skirt.

“You look great in all your things, dear. I’m sure Warren will think so, too.”

She looked at her wristwatch.

“Must fly, darling. I’ll leave you to it…Must go have a shower; smarten myself up a little, too.”

Leigh stepped into the hallway.

As ever, Deana thought, watching her go, Mom looks wonderful.

She paused. Waiting for Mom to say something about Mace.

Like, how’d he get in?

Or, did you let him in, honey?

Dressed, or should we say undressed, like that?

Or maybe Mace has his own key?

Mom wouldn’t have given him a house key so soon in their relationship.

Would she?

Mom and Mace had been an item for less than two weeks…That’s all. She wouldn’t give him his own key.

But she is pretty well struck on him.

Mom poked her head around the door.

“Mace been here long, honey?”

Here it comes.

Darling daughter does the dirty on Mom.

Again.

“Five, ten minutes, is all.”

“Good thing you were around to let him in.”

“Yeah.”

Bull’s-eye. The twenty-four-thousand-dollar question answered in one go.

Mace hasn’t got a key.

Not yet.

“If I’m in the shower when Tony calls with the food and wine, see to him, will you, darling?”

“Sure, Mom. Leave it with me. Mace gone?”

“Yep. Duty calls, he said. Asked him to join us, but he said he’d gotta ride.”

Gotta ride!

Huh. I’ll bet.

She frowned.

Just what was Mace up to? He’d sure started to act strange. Not his usual self.

Showing a side she and Mom hadn’t seen yet.

Don’t want to see it anymore, either.

Obviously, Mom thinks he’s okay.

And she wouldn’t tolerate a weirdo.

Would she?

She’d gone along with Nelson. And he was a weirdo.

But his meals were something else. That’s what he was there for—to cook good meals. Mom couldn’t really complain about him.

Look what happened when she did…

What would have happened if she hadn’t?

Christ! This is leading nowhere fast.

Gotta get ready.

Warren’ll be here before I’m dressed, at this rate.

She listened to Mom splashing in the shower.

Humming to herself.

Happy.

Not knowing how spooky Mace could be.

What’d happen if I told her about him sneaking up on me? How do you tell your mom her boyfriend’s a Peeping Tom? That he gets off staring at your half-naked daughter?

Come to think about it how the hell did he sneak up on me?

Mom hadn’t given him a key.

So how’d he do it?

Get in through the window?

What window? All their windows were intruder-proof. They opened only so far. And no farther.

He could have stolen a key.

The spare one Mom left under the magnolia bush by the front stoop?

Maybe he was simply being what he was. A good cop.

He’d made an impression of the key under the bush, and had another one made, Deana thought.

Intruders do that all the time.

She’d read about how they did it.